Klinger, fairly aroused, was now stung to action; again he raised his cruel whip, slinging the long lash behind him and retreating a step to give the blow fair play. Phil did not budge. He saw the long leash raise itself as if alive from the ground; he heard it sing in the air above him, expecting it to wrap itself stinging and biting about his neck. But it passed harmlessly a few inches from his shoulder and fell upon the ground at his feet with a dull report. Then he could hardly believe his eyes, for his antagonist was rolling on the ground, a naked brown body clinging desperately to him. Phil was transfixed in astonishment. His first intention, to go to the aid of the native, he saw was unnecessary. The supple native boy had found his strength and was slowly choking the breath from the manager’s body. Klinger’s face had turned purple before Phil could persuade the injured native to desist. The boy was fairly delirious with savage joy over his wonderful achievement. Klinger lay insensible upon the ground. Phil stooped, the manager’s whip in his own hands, and tore the man’s shirt at the neck and felt for his heart. He feared that some permanent injury might have been done him. Sydney and the others were now at Phil’s side. Avao openly praised the native boy for his prowess, and Phil learned that a command from her had sent this young bundle of steel muscles to protect him from the manager’s cruel whip. The native grinned for joy. He had discovered his own manhood and protected a papalangi friend of the queen of his clan from a ruffianly slave driver. “He’s nearly choked to death,” Phil announced as he rose to his feet. “That boy has the strength of a young gorilla in his hands. Look at those marks on Klinger’s neck.” The manager’s neck was a sorry sight; the cords and muscles had been twisted and almost pulled bodily from the broad throat. “He’ll have an awfully sore throat when he wakes up,” Sydney said quietly. “We must get him to a doctor at once,” Phil exclaimed. “Avao, call to those slave boys. We must have him carried to town.” The Tapau called, and several of the blacks started toward them. Then Phil thought of the native boy who had come to his aid. He feared for him. He knew that some cruel and unheard-of punishment would be given to the native that dared to so roughly handle the manager of the Kapuan firm. Death even was not impossible, especially as the native was a relative of Tuamana. “Avao,” he whispered, “tell the boy to go away far and not come back until you send him word.” “He knows, Alii,” Avao replied. The boy pressed his forehead hurriedly to the girl’s hand, and then murmuring, “Tofa, Alii,”[36] with a cheerful grin vanished into the “bush,” just as the first of the Solomon Islanders arrived to raise their fallen master. With Klinger carried on the shoulders of several black boys, and with the Americans bringing up the rear, the party proceeded toward the town.